


Gay Brooklyn

by Starla-Nell (Princess_Nell)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (but not machoism), 1930s, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Puns, Begging, Bottom!Bucky, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Communication, Consensual Sex, Dirty Puns, Exhibitionism, First Dates, First Time, Historical Gay Brooklyn, Humor, Lightest of Pain Play, M/M, Voyeurism, brief Dom/sub play, first-time prostate play, just stop Ryan you're not helping your case, sports masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Nell/pseuds/Starla-Nell
Summary: It’s 1936. Bucky likes the boxing ring, but not as much as he likes the new guy. Sexy funtimes ensue.





	1. How to take a hit

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the same universe as I’m starting to wonder if you like getting hit. I started research for Bucky’s background and fell down the rabbit hole of 1930s gay culture in NYC. 
> 
>  
> 
> Ryan, my OC, is a good guy. Bucky has a crush on his best friend, but Ryan isn’t ‘horning in’ on Steve’s territory or anything. Steve doesn’t have any territory here yet, okay? Yet. Okay. 
> 
>  
> 
> Words and attitudes:  
> I considered leaving this to the text, but some of these terms could derail a reader pretty hard. So! If needed, read the rest of the notes to decide if this fic is for you despite… the 1930s. 
> 
> Ryan is great at consent compared to the culture of the day. If I need to write a badwrong this universe is a good choice, holy shit. Ryan isn’t as skilled or knowledgeable as Steve in that other fic, but. He’s 20 years old. He wouldn’t be yet. 
> 
> 1930s terms:  
> Normal – people we would now call cis and straight. I strongly disagree with the literal implications of this term, but people used it in the day, so this is what my 1930s characters use. Rarely. People in the 1930s also confused gender with who you were attracted to. They believed that if you were cis your were straight and if you were trans you were doing it to attract people of your birth gender. 
> 
> Trade – straight/cis man who paid for sex. This term came from the sex workers, not the clients, but most clients would have known it. 
> 
> Fairy – effeminate man with a reputation for getting paid for sex with men; today this group might self-identify as sex workers who are trans women or non-binary. Fairies used the phrase ‘third sex’ to help others understand. They carried the most legal and social risk and were the most visible. Sexism and toxic masculinity heightened the dangers fairies faced and isolated them from potential allies. They preferred she/her pronouns but rarely got them. (I question as I write this whether the past tense is appropriate.) 
> 
> Wolf – straight/cis man who sought sex with feminine men, sometimes younger men. The popular view was that wolves’ partners were usually boys, but I’m calling bullshit. (More under ‘punk’.) Anyway, the question ‘who played the woman?’ was more important to working-class manliness than ‘was your partner a woman?’ Some wolves and trade who sought fairies were non-transphobic straight men. Other wolves were bisexual or closeted gay. Wolves faced few social or legal consequences in the 1930s. Working class men were socially secure because they were considered inherently manlier than ‘soft’ middle-class men. Cue the class war. I present to you the roots of toxic masculinity. Whee. 
> 
> Punk – younger, submissive, effeminate man seen as a partner for wolves. Closest modern term is twink. Underage punks were rare, and people recognized they were victims. However, purity crusaders used those few underage punks to persecute both roles even if both were adults, though the focus was still on fairies. You can see this practice today, used to suppress (mention of) gay sex. My impression of the commonly assumed wolf/punk dynamic is that of a teacher-Dom with a bratty sub, but I’m sure it varied. 
> 
> Queer – describes a cis man who preferred sex with men; today they might prefer the term gay. I found nothing on whether women who preferred sex with women also used ‘queer’. This group was virtually unknown to the public. Acknowledgment of desire for men who weren’t feminine was a threat to a man’s gender role, including livelihood, again especially if they were middle-class. I wanted this encounter to be fun for everyone, so Bucky and Ryan have each made peace with being queer before they meet. 
> 
> Boy – an insult to manhood in 1930s working-class culture, worse than sissy or queer. 
> 
> Gay – anything intensely fabulous, flamboyant, and wonderful. Fairies sometimes described themselves as gay in the 1930s, and they didn’t hesitate to use the word for anything they liked. 
> 
> These are all my understanding after limited research. I mean, this is a fanfic what am I even doing. If you have more sources, I’ll put them on my tbr list. 
> 
>  
> 
> tl/dr: I don’t have Bucky or Ryan refer to anyone with terms they wouldn’t have chosen for themselves. Also, none of it comes up in the bedroom.  
>  
> 
> Colin Morgan in 2006 is my faceclaim for Ryan in 1936. You can use the same faceclaim for your characters; I’m not fussed. I went looking for Irish cheekbones in Google images and said, yep that’s Ryan. He’s three or four inches shorter than Bucky. What can I say? Bucky likes small and sassy.

Frustration drives Bucky to the gym. It’s better than when he was a kid: he’d wander the street spoiling for a fight. Now he pounds a bag at the YMCA until his turn in the ring. The bag warms him up; the ring gets rid of the itchy, strangle-anything feeling beneath his skin. He goes home bruised instead of bleeding.

Bucky’s kept a few bad street habits, a few good. He likes to bait his opponent and try to get out of trouble. Bucky closes fast and tries to knock his opponent on his ass before taking too much damage. He learns from every fight he loses.

Getting hit makes him feel alive. There’s a rhythm to it. He gets winded, and then the itchy feeling drops away and he can take any hit and give back harder. And if he’s thinking of greenish-blue eyes while he fights, worrying about Steve probably drove him here in the first place. It makes sense.

 _If it were Steve, I wouldn’t fight back._ He lands the next punch hard enough to stagger the other guy, Murdoch. It’s almost enough to forget the thought. Thinking that way makes Bucky panic in his gut and chest, drives him to fight longer because that frustration doesn’t leave when he thinks like that. He knows. He _knows_ he’s infatuated with his best friend, but Steve probably thinks of Bucky as a brother. It’s not how Bucky thinks of Steve when he lets himself. He rarely lets himself.

The coach calls the match and gives Murdoch the rundown. Bucky hardly listens; he’s too busy hoping the world falls away in his next match. He gets clarity and calm when that happens, but today it’ll take awhile.

Just as Bucky’s next match-up is ducking into the ring, Coach falls silent and everyone turns toward the door. Bucky’s late to notice the new guy, but the ring gives him vantage. Black hair, light build but still Welterweight by YMCA rules, curious eyes, cheekbones, an amused smile, and grace and confidence that announces he’ll be hell to beat in the ring. His eyes find Bucky, who’s onstage and displayed for this guy’s entertainment. The smirk chasing that appraising glance makes Bucky want to see what he’s made of. _Let him take me apart._ Bucky hits his glove, impatient.

The guy’s eyebrows jump, but he addresses Coach. “Got a room here.” He says the last word ‘hee-ya’. That accent ain’t Brooklyn. _Staton Island?_ “Thought I could get a practice round in.” _Nope. Is a Boston accent like that?_

“Is he gonna fit in the rotation?” Coach asks.

Bucky glances at his sparring partner, who tips his head. Bucky says, “Warm up. You’re next,” and puts his mouth guard in for this fight.

Coach wants the guy he’s matched with to learn to keep his left up, so Bucky hits with his right. This guy’s a pushover. The new guy takes up most of Bucky’s mental real estate, pounding on a bag to one side, warming up. He’s half-watching, meeting Bucky’s eye four out of five glances.

Coach calls it, and the new guy enters the ring. With a flicker of fear, Bucky knows he’s in trouble. Not with the fight—well, maybe with the fight—but the guy looks _good_ and knows it. Bucky’s eyes involuntarily flick over the new guy’s bare chest and up to his smirk.

“Ryan O’Neill,” he says as Coach directs them to their marks.

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky says, putting in his mouthguard. They tap gloves; close enough to a handshake for boxing.

“You’re serious? Bucky?” Ryan says, smirking as he pops in his own guard.

Coach’s hand falls, and Bucky swings, closing fast. Ryan dodges back; Bucky’s glove whispers against his chin. He blocks Bucky with his left and swings fast with the other glove, but Bucky’s out of the way, retreating from more. He can’t help but smile around his guard; this will be good.

Ryan’s got both arms up. Bucky lands side hits while Ryan tangles his left, trapping it and coming close. Bucky goes for arms instead of body, and Ryan bounces into the corner. Ryan bounces forward again; Bucky lunges: left jab, catching Ryan’s cheek hard. Ryan lurches with the blow and swings his left up and blocks Bucky’s right hook, shoving Ryan’s glove into Bucky’s head.

 _Foomp._ Bucky jabs side-side through that focus. Space: Ryan’s fists between them. Back/forth, Bucky hooks armpit—got him—pulls close. Locked in, cheek-to-cheek, chins digging, slipping skin-sweat; pounding but no room to wind up. Bucky feels the hits, but his light focus makes them easy to return. Ryan’s left trapped under Bucky’s right arm; fight to land/block the other side.

Ryan hits Bucky’s side, and Bucky backs up. They bounce a few seconds. Bucky feels _good_. Clear. Ryan ducks Bucky’s jab, but Bucky’ll get him. It’s in the bag. Just one solid hit.

“Pull it in, New Guy,” some traitor shouts. Ryan pulls his elbow in, blocks Bucky’s left jab for once. Then Ryan’s left comes up from nowhere and clocks Bucky in the jaw. He learns the exact lines of every electrified nerve from jaw to neck, but he’s _fine_. Except his head isn’t above the rest of him. A glove against his side tilts him over on his ass.

“Ryan!” Coach calls it.

Ryan’s mouthguard pops out, and he grins. “Who said that?” Bucky’s facing the wrong way to catch the traitor. “Thank you for that! Very helpful.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky says, grinning too. _Alive!_ “You were holding back.” _So fucking alive._

“Not a bit,” Ryan admits, offering Bucky a hand up. Bucky pulls off a glove to take it. “I’ve played before but not, ah, not seen much of _your_ style.”

“Played,” Bucky says flatly, taking a half-step back. “This ain’t a game.”

Ryan grins. “No, it’s a sport. You _play_ sports. _Fighting_ is for the streets.” He sticks out his hand again. “Good round. Go again?”

Bucky glances at the hand and weighs wanting to shake it against how much he probably shouldn’t. Then he glances up at Ryan’s grin and knows he was toast the moment he agreed to fight him. Play. Whatever.

“All right,” he says, shaking it, “but let the others get some ring time, first.”


	2. Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short chapters. It was the best (only?) way to get this thing out the door.

They get to talking about bouts they’ve seen, mostly on the silver screen. Jack Dempsey vs. Jess Willard being the classic: “Taking on a big man like that!” Ryan hoots.

They don’t forget Barney Ross vs. Ceferino Garcia late last year: “Did you _see_ his frustration after the first round? Barney couldn’t land a hit!” Bucky says. “He’s not used to that!”

“Barney got a few in when they were tired, though didn’t he? Stamina counts for something.”

“You know he’s from New York, right?” Bucky brags.

“Why do you think I’m here? I want to train in the Big Apple a while.”

“Huh. A while,” Bucky says absent-mindedly. Ryan grins.

Ryan wants to know about the local champs and nods, unsurprised, when he finally gets it out of Bucky that he’s been the YMCA Welterweight Champion the last couple years. They talk about when each started officially boxing. Ends up Ryan’s 20, only a year older than Bucky.

The conversation turns to movies, then general entertainment in the area. “So I came in yesterday from Boston. You got any gay places here in Brooklyn?” Ryan asks.

Bucky shoots him an amused look. “Let me think a minute,” he says. Bright or colorful attractions would fit Ryan’s choice of words. Places like Coney Island. But Bucky has ears for all he’s a virgin. Fairies use ‘gay’ to describe things they like, and Ryan leaned into the word. ‘Gay’ could be taken as something Bucky’s interested in exploring, with Ryan. “Yeah,” Bucky says finally. “There’s more in Greenwich Village, but some of what you’re looking for is around here.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, grinning. “I was hoping so. Care to be my… tour guide?” and for _once_ Ryan doesn’t exude absolute confidence in all things Ryan.

“A tour, maybe not so much,” Bucky says. “For the rest? Yeah, probably, if you give me time to decide whether I _will_.”

“Christ, you must think I… No, I don’t _usually_ …” Ryan looks at his gloves, now sandwiched on the bench between them. “I don’t usually want a _tour_ so soon after meeting someone, but you… you’re something else.” Ryan bumps into Bucky playfully.

Bucky snorts. “Then why are you staying here?”

“So the YMCA reputation’s _true_?”

“So I hear.” Bucky coughs. “Anyway, no apology”—

“All right, boys! Closing up!” Coach shouts from across the gym. “Hit the showers and don’t come back!”

Bucky looks up, dazed, to stare at the clock. Ryan’s stunned, too, and they laugh. Damn it feels good. Then there’s a shoving half-race to the showers.

They get the usual locker-room razzing. Bucky hogged the new guy, and Ryan stole Bucky from their usual rotation. They grin through it all, and Bucky promises to return after looking for work tomorrow.

What’s really on his mind is each new section of skin he’s revealing to Ryan, the appreciative glances from Ryan in the showers, the _hum_ of their round and their conversation through his body. Something like anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That YMCA Welterweight Champion thing? Yeah, that’s comics canon. It was the proverbial straw on the camel for my headcanon that Bucky is gay, was gay, has been gay since the moment the character was created. (Looks up how the character was actually created...) Wait, what? What is with children fighting wars in Marvel?!? *disgusted noise*


	3. Egg Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the writer sets a ‘gun’ on the ‘mantlepiece’ and takes it down after a nice egg cream. Oh, but, uh… no smut until next chapter. Why, what did you think an egg cream was?

“I don’t want to do _that_!” a fairy squeals. Her voice carries across the park to where Bucky and Ryan are strolling. _Does she not like a friend’s clothing recommendation?_

“Why not? Aren’t you gay?” her friends prod, flamboyant and fawning. _What are they talking about?_

“Oh, I’m _gay_! But I don’t want to do _that_!” The fairy sits on a bench, and a cluster forms around her. By law, they have to wear men’s clothing, but their manner and grooming show that they’re women.

Bucky glances at Ryan, who seems preoccupied.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, bumping their shoulders. They’ve practiced and razzed each other for weeks now, but Bucky’s never seen Ryan so… introspective.

“Yeah.” Ryan seems to come back to himself. “You know, I didn’t really want a tour.” He’s smiling when he says it, teasing not critical.

“Sure you did. Besides, what you really meant’s a big decision.”

“Not for them,” Ryan says, nodding across the park.

Bucky shrugs. “I’m not them. I haven’t… I’m not them.”

“Huh. You haven’t?” _Damn, Ryan picked that up._ “Don’t you have to fight off propositions with a stick?”

“Hey, honeys,” calls a fairy, sort of proving Ryan’s point. “You looking for some fun?”

“Not today, sweetheart!” Bucky shouts. Then quieter to Ryan, “I don’t use a stick, what’s wrong with you?”

Ryan turns that smirk on Bucky. “Yet here you are, considering a tour. I’m flattered.”

Bucky bursts out laughing. “As if your ego needs that!” He shoves him by the shoulder, harder this time.

“I’m handsome and I know it,” Ryan says, grinning. “You should take notes. Confidence is sexy.”

Bucky snorts. “I _would_ have to carry a stick.”

“There you go! Much better!”

Bucky grins.

“So,” continues Ryan, “talking about sexy. First question. You know you’ve got nothing to prove with me, right?”

“I’m sorry, was that the question?” Bucky teases. “Yeah, no, nothing to prove to you.”

“Good. Next one. What role do you go for? Hypothetically. Wolf? Punk? More of a fairy?”

Bucky glances around for cops or purity crusaders. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“But you like men, right?” Ryan asks as if it’s a question.

“What, you couldn’t tell?”

“Just making sure you could. I’ve met some smart-looking idiots.”

“Thanks for that,” Bucky says. Ryan just waits for an answer, so Bucky shrugs. “When my best friend became more to me than a ‘brother’ I considered maybe I was a fairy, but I don’t fit the groups you see around here.” He glances at the cluster socializing and flirting with other passersby. “I mean, clearly I’m missing out, but I’m not anything but a man. A queer man, you know?”

Ryan heaves a breath. “Bucky. You don’t even pretend to like women?”

“I like women fine to talk to and dance with, but you…” _Can I say this part?_ Ryan draws his eye, invades his thoughts, and at times makes his chest go weird and panicky. “Well. _You’re_ not in a red tie or tweezed eyebrows, and I like you better than any woman I’ve met so far.”

“Bucky, you shouldn’t trust so easy.” Ryan’s watching his feet, downright worried. “You’ve known me, what? A month? Sure, fuck a guy, but don’t tell him that.”

“That’s sweet,” Bucky says, walking sideways and grinning. “You’re protecting me.”

“I’m maybe a little wolfish about you.” Ryan says, smiling. “Protective, sure. I want to be good to you, show you a few things.”

“I can protect myself,” Bucky says but doesn’t argue with the rest.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, smiling, “I know. And I like you, too.”

Bucky can’t help but smile back. He turns to cross the street.

“Where are we heading?” Ryan asks, looking around as he jogs to catch up.

“This here’s one of New York’s best treats,” Bucky says, opening the door to a soda fountain and nodding inside.

“You’re the treat,” Ryan mutters as he sweeps in. Bucky tries to chuckle, but Ryan makes him breathless at the stupidest times.

Inside, there’s a long counter and three guys pulling taps of soda water, adding syrups of various colors, and busily working their magic. Bucky orders two egg creams.

“I think I’ve heard of this. A tonic invented near here? Wasn’t it Manhattan’s Lower East Side?”

“Hey! Not a chance,” Bucky snips. “Brooklyn.”

Ryan grins. The soda jerk gives him a sidelong glance as he sets the egg creams on the counter.

“My friend’s from out of town,” Bucky explains.

“You think?” the guy says before taking Bucky’s dime.

“I didn’t see any eggs go into this,” Ryan says and picks up his glass.

“Nope,” Bucky says. “Down it fast, or it gets weird.”

“No cream, either?” Ryan looks dubious.

“That’s right.” Bucky carefully takes his first gulp. Bitter soda water with the sweet syrup. Sharp fizz and soft foam.

“What’s the brown goop?”

“Chocolate,” Bucky says, letting the aftertaste bloom on his tongue. “They make it here.”

Ryan shrugs and takes his first drink.

“Wow, that’s good!”

“It doesn’t last,” Bucky warns him, downing another gulp. “You’ve got maybe a minute.”

Ryan nods, and it’s an unspoken race to finish. Bucky wins, but he started first. Ryan eyes the last inch of soda head in his glass, but the proprietor sweeps the glasses away before he drinks straight foam.

“What if you don’t drink it fast?”

“You know that nice aftertaste? Falls flat. Kind of goes metallic.”

“Gross.” Ryan makes a face, and that’s when Bucky notices.

He laughs. “You got a bit…”

“What?” Ryan asks.

“On your nose,” Bucky says. “Some on your nose.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky helpfully points at his own nose. “Foam,” he clarifies.

Ryan rubs the side of his nose, ducking. “Foam? How?”

Bucky laughs again, saying, “Here.” He cleans it off, catching Ryan as he dodges. “Got it.”

Ryan laughs until Bucky licks it off his finger when no one’s looking. Other patrons crowd in, so they push outside again.

“I figured out what’s bothering me about the fairies,” Ryan says back in the park as they return to the YMCA.

“It’s not their girlish charms?”

“Definitely not,” Ryan says, smiling. Then he’s serious again. “You hear what the gayest fairy didn’t want to do?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I got no clue, honestly.”

“She didn’t want to suck dick,” Ryan says, and Bucky reflexively checks around again. They’re fine. “Her friends thought a fairy should want whatever a man offers.” Ryan’s brow furrows, and he talks with his arms the way he does sometimes. “I don’t think that’s how it works, you know? Maybe she didn’t know he wanted sex like her friends thought, but maybe she wanted to fuck instead of swallowing dick.” He drops his arms. “She should get the _choice_.”

Bucky opens his mouth, but his voice refuses to work, so he closes it again. The fairy’s emotions seem a lot more reasonable, knowing the situation. To know he’d get the choice with Ryan… He hasn’t pushed. Ryan talks about sex if it comes up, leaves openings, and makes it clear he’s attracted, but Ryan’s let Bucky lead.

Ryan glances over. “Oh damn, you’re cute when you’re shy.” His warm hand lands on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky remembers

_They’d stayed in the locker room talking and ended up suddenly close. A few words, and Bucky leaned in. He figured out later they’d kissed for half an hour. Ryan hadn’t pushed when Bucky’d returned his hands above his belt, had cut his frustrated groan short._

Bucky wants to let Ryan’s hands roam. _Let him take me apart._

Ryan’s still talking: “I’ll take it as another compliment.”

Bucky tries to huff an exasperated laugh, but it comes out, “Yes.”

“Yes, it’s a compliment?” Ryan is all grins and glee.

“Yes, I want to… give you a tour.”

Ryan hops a step ahead of Bucky, walking backward. “I thought that’s what you were doing?” He waves expansively at the park, the soda fountain, the sky.

“You… you know what I mean,” Bucky says, all too aware that _fighting_ a blush only makes it _worse._

“I don’t really, though,” Ryan shrugs, and his teasing glance gives way to a warm _hope_. He continues quietly, “Want to put my dick in your mouth? Want me to fuck you? You want it rough or should I take my time with you? I don’t want you running from my room wailing that you didn’t _want_ something.”

“No idea,” Bucky says, frustrated and blushing harder. His fingers flex. “I want to touch you… I want you to show me a few things.” Bucky meets Ryan’s eyes as he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. “Tonight.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ryan says. “That _is_ a compliment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the egg cream pun didn't occur to me until the chapter was already drafted.


	4. Sexy Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise no puns during the actual sex.   
> I feel bad about the tiny chapters, but if I weren't doing it this way it wouldn't have gotten done this week, so... Enjoy this longer smut chapter!   
> Note the new tag because I finally figured out how to tag "brief Dom/sub play." Remember that Ryan's great about consent.

It’s awkward as fuck back in Ryan’s room, a single-occupancy number with a narrow bed, dresser, table, and one chair. Ryan hangs their hats and jackets, making the sparse room more alive. Bucky casts about for something, anything to say, because he can’t quite make himself just start kissing Ryan like he wants to.

“What color are your walls?” _Oh, real smart, Barnes._

Ryan suggests, “Yellow?” smiling and tilting his head.

“I was thinking ‘baby-puke,’ but okay.” _Yeah, great,_ Bucky thinks, wishing the floor would collapse or something, _baby puke is a great aphrodisiac._

“How about mustard?” Ryan snorts a bit.

Bucky blinks. “Why mustard?”

“I figure it’ll get you thinking about hot dogs.”

“Are you serious,” Bucky says, smiling. _Of all the stupid…_

“What? Hot dogs are delicious!”

Bucky tries to wipe the smile off his face. “Hot dogs aren’t exactly getting me in the mood.”

“I don’t know. They’re kind of…” Ryan moves like he’s got a hotdog, then strokes its length.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You just got mustard on your hand.” He walks a bit further into the room. Ryan grins back and kicks off his shoes. Bucky follows suit, nudging them under the table.

“Hey, before working on the mood thing, I should really ask.” Ryan takes a steadying breath. “Is there a type of sex that bothers you?” His tone is low, gentle, and not quite sexual.

Bucky shakes his head.

“Really? I can put it wherever I want? In your ass? In your mouth?”

“Well, not my ass _then_ my mouth.”

Ryan laughs. “I would never do that.” Ryan strips off his shirt, but when Bucky tries to do the same, Ryan’s hand rests over Bucky’s. The touch feels electric, and Bucky wonders if it’s possible to buzz hard enough to vibrate.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Ryan says.

Bucky snorts. “We met in the ring.”

“You punching me tonight, punk?”

“Maybe if you ask nice.” An old joke.

“Yeah, not into that,” Ryan says.

_What, that’s a thing?_ Bucky is immediately curious.

Ryan breathes out. “No ‘sweetheart’ talk tonight. All right, Bucky.” He returns Bucky’s hand to his side. “I gather you’ve never had sex. Have you ever tried putting something in your ass for kicks?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at his own blush. “Really?” There’s a weird squirm in his gut.

“Yeah, _really_.”

“What for?” _Rather not talk about this. Ever._

“To make it good for you, I’ve got to know what your body knows. Besides,” and here Ryan grins, “you have the best blush.”

“You’re an asshole,” Bucky says, then pauses. That second part he was expecting, but the first makes a lot of sense. “Yeah. Yes, all right?”

“All right. What?” Ryan turns to put his shirt away.

Bucky drops onto the edge of the bed and runs a hand over his flushing traitor face. “My fingers, at first. Nothing happened till I got two in. The neck of a bottle a few months ago.”

Ryan whistles. “What’s your lube?”

“Petroleum jelly.”

Ryan nods then digs in a drawer, saying, “That’s not for us since we’re using a condom.” Ryan pulls out a tube of clinical KY Jelly and a condom packet and sets them on the dresser.

“Thank fuck.” Bucky grins. He hadn’t been looking forward to that conversation. Condoms have been pushed for women so hard that most guys claim you don’t need them with men. Ryan grins back.

“What about your experience?” Bucky asks. “Turn about’s fair play.”

Ryan bites his lip, sits next to Bucky on the bed. “I know a few things. More than a few. Maybe I’ll make mistakes, but I’ll try to be good to you, Bucky.”

“Sounds like a lot,” Bucky says, unsure whether to tease.

Ryan sighs. “I’ve done the usual, both ways. Some of it… doesn’t matter, because you won’t go through that. Not with me. We can cherry-pick.” He snorts and mutters, “In a manner of speaking.” He smiles sheepishly.

“Shit, Ryan,” Bucky says. “Skip the terrible puns, I”—

Bucky forgets what he was going to say as Ryan’s lips meet his. He remembers and decides to forget again.

The kiss warms his lips. It’s decadent, like drinking honey, sweet pleasure running down his spine, but also like Bucky’s just started running. _What do I do with my hands?_ Ryan wraps his hand behind Bucky’s head to deepen the kiss. Bucky sucks in a breath through his nose and touches Ryan’s back.

Smooth skin over muscle. Bucky’s fingertips feel like he’s a Van de Graaf Generator as he moves, _spark-spark-spark_ , like that. Ryan’s free hand drifts to the hem of his shirt. The brush of his fingers promises even better, but then he moves away.

“Please,” Bucky says on an exhale, pressing their foreheads together.

“Christ, I want to hear you beg,” Ryan growls. He smells warm, like the park.

“Beg for what?” Bucky asks, teasing again.

“Hmm,” Ryan says. “Would you beg for my dick the first time?”

Bucky recalls that debauched experiment, months ago, the bottle in his ass and hand around his dick. He’d cum hard enough to scare himself a little, and he hadn’t tried it since. Now he wants that again, wants that with Ryan.

“Oh, look at that. I think you might.” Ryan smiles, predatory for the first time.

“Please?” Bucky says with a playful smirk.

Ryan hums. “A good start. Strip for me.” He scoots back a bit.

Bucky grabs the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up.

“Slowly,” Ryan drawls. “Don’t waste it.”

Bucky smiles and tugs his shirt up, cooler air caressing inch after inch of exposed skin. _Does he like watching?_ Ryan’s hungry eyes warm him again.

Bucky’s shirt collar gets caught on his chin, usually over and done fast. Now, going slowly, he struggles to disentangle the shirt from his arms. He squirms a little, and Ryan hums approvingly.

“You like when I squirm?” Bucky says, tossing Ryan his shirt.

Ryan tosses it back. “Yeah, I do. Could you fold this for me?”

Bucky nods, turning away to set the folded shirt on the dresser.

Ryan steps up behind him, hands on his back. “I finally get to feel you move. Watching in the gym is a bit like torture.”

“You too, huh?” Bucky grins as Ryan’s hands squeeze his ass. “Hey,” he says, turning around. “I’m not some piece of meat.”

“I’ll give you a piece of meat,” Ryan says, kissing him.

Bucky groans into his mouth, “You and your hotdog,” but lets him attack his belt buckle. Ryan curls the belt, and Bucky sets it next to his shirt, trying to focus through the swimming pleasure while Ryan unbuttons his pants and kisses his chest. He unzips over Bucky’s bulge, drawing out a long hiss.

“Christ, yes, let me hear those delicious sounds,” Ryan says into Bucky’s mouth.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky says.

Ryan tenses under Bucky’s hands. “You’re killing me,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Would Highness be better?” Bucky teases.

“No.” Ryan takes a deep breath Bucky doesn’t totally understand, but likes. “Sir is for later, maybe. You use ‘sir,’ and I’ll want to play in ways we have _got_ to talk about first.”

“You say ‘play,’ and I hear ‘fight,’” Bucky says, smiling against Ryan’s cheek. “How do we stem the rose and fight?”

“Well, not at the same time. It works different ways for different people. Why? You want to try that?” Ryan asks.

“Sure,” Bucky says.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, Ryan, I want to know how that works.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ryan says, “but no way I’m hitting you tonight, and I’ve got to explain something first.” Ryan pulls Bucky’s pants and briefs to his knees. “Sit there for me.” Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, Ryan in front of him, knees bumping. He’s shorter than Bucky but _feels_ taller standing over him. “You know traffic lights?” Bucky nods, painfully aware his trousers are half-down while talking about traffic lights. “Red is for ‘stop.’ Green means ‘go’: you’re having fun. Yellow is ‘not sure, maybe stop soon.’ If you need me to stop anytime—and I’m talking full U-ee—what do you say?”

“Red,” Bucky says, wondering what sort of euphemism he’s stepped into.

“What color are you now?”

“Uh, _green,_ if you’d”—

Bucky isn’t expecting boxer-Ryan here, whatever he said about a fight. Ryan ducks, quick wraps Bucky’s clothes sharp between his knees, and pushes his chest sideways. Tip, and Bucky’s hands hit the narrow mattress. _Not boxer, wrestler._ Ryan is on top, legs entangled, pinning hands. Bucky struggles.

“Where are you now?” Ryan demands. “Bucky! Give me a color.”

“Green!” Bucky says between clenched teeth, writhing against Ryan. Fuck, it feels good: the weight of him, skin pressing and sliding. “Let me go! I’m green, green!”

Ryan tightens his legs around Bucky’s legs and leans forward. “Not till you stop fighting me,” Ryan says low and _hot_ in Bucky’s ear.

Bucky moans and continues to struggle but just gets his hands pinned _above_ his head. Ryan rides him out, effortlessly controlling him. His skin feels like fire everywhere they touch.

“You can stop. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Ryan says. “Shit, sorry. Bucky. I’ve got you, _Bucky_.” Ryan gets him pinned tighter and tighter, but Bucky doesn’t stop fighting.

Ryan pins Bucky’s wrists with one hand—Bucky decides not to test that too hard—and scrapes his nails from where his trousers are bunched, over his hip, up his side _just_ the right side of ticklish, and to his chest. It burns like pleasure.

“Not so much,” Bucky says. Ryan switches to fingertips, and it’s even better. Bucky calms under the touch, moving only to feel Ryan’s grip and touch him with his body.

Ryan releases him, and Bucky pulls him down for a hard kiss. He brushes over Bucky’s nipples but yeah that does nothing. Ryan just keeps kissing, pressing, everywhere. Bucky wants to keep this thing progressing and arches his hips to press his dick against Ryan’s covered zipper. A tiny pleading noise escapes his throat.

“Yeah, that’s enough,” Ryan pants, and he pulls off the rest of Bucky’s clothes. Bucky’s arms feel empty and useless until he remembers how Ryan liked watching him take off his shirt. He’s not ready to touch his dick yet; it’s nerve-wracking to even have it showing. Instead, he tries to touch himself like Ryan touched him. Tries to feel sexy.

Ryan looks like he might ask Bucky to fold his clothes again but stares instead. He sits next to Bucky, running his hands over his legs. It’s amazing: four hands touching him.

“Look at you,” Ryan says, and Bucky’s suddenly aware of being naked again. The look on Ryan’s face makes him feel very sexy. “Christ, you look good.”

Bucky reaches, and Ryan groans and crawls up to kiss his lips. He presses their bodies together, and his skin against Bucky’s chest! It’s way more than having four hands. He’s hyper-aware of the texture of Ryan’s pants.

“You have too many clothes on,” Bucky says.

Ryan huffs but sits back on his knees to shove off the last of his clothing, then kisses Bucky. _I’m in heaven._ The slide of Ryan against him, his kiss pouring honey down his spine is what heaven should feel like.

Things heat up until all Bucky can hear is their panting breath through their noses. Ryan kisses Bucky’s neck and holy _shit_ , his _neck_. He moves to Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky returns the whole _neck_ favor, and he throws his head back, arching and groaning. Ryan presses their dicks together, not rubbing, but the sensation makes Bucky forget how to think.

“Fuck,” Ryan hisses. “Fuck.” He’s groping for the dresser, and Bucky kisses every spot that makes Ryan flail harder until he breaks free and dives at the KY. He shoves the tube into Bucky’s hand. “Show me how you finger yourself.”

Bucky’s breath hisses into a “Fuck.” Not what he was expecting, but Bucky wants the look on Ryan’s face while he does it. He spins off the cap and squirts out plenty of jelly as Ryan scoots to the foot of the bed to give him room. Bucky hesitates, but then Ryan smirks and strokes his own dick. It’s the hottest thing Bucky’s ever seen.

Bucky rolls to one side and pulls his top leg up. He reaches behind himself, where Ryan has a good view, and paints the cold jelly against his pucker. It’s thinner than the petroleum stuff, but close enough. Bucky hesitates.

“Take your time,” Ryan says. “Unless you need something from me, do it how ever you do when you’re alone.”

_When I was alone, I thought about Steve._ He shuts down that thought, fast. Ryan _is_ here, watching him like _that_. Bucky massages and presses the delicate skin and wiry muscle at his pucker, forgets to hesitate when it feels _good_. He slides one finger inside slowly, easily. It’s nice. He presses the muscles ringing his hole. Stroking in and out, he adds the second slick finger, and the pleasure gets too dense to flit away. He groans, and the bed shifts as Ryan makes an answering groan. Bucky twists to squirm against the mattress and play with his ass.

“Spread those fingers for me,” Ryan says, his voice husky. “Like scissors.”

Bucky does it and gasps from the sweet stretch.

“Christ, keep going. Show me what you like.”

Bucky does until he gets to where he usually touches himself.

“Bucky, think about it,” Ryan says. “Wouldn’t you rather wait till I’m inside you?”

“Dunno,” Bucky says blearily.

“Try holding off. For me?” Ryan caresses him like fire, and Bucky can’t catch his breath, grinding against the mattress. Bucky can hold off. He spends a lot of time—or is it a few minutes?—writhing on his own fingers and squirming face-down against the bed while Ryan touches him. Bucky knows how he must look, panting and squirming. He doesn’t care.

Ryan’s dick brushes Bucky’s thigh, jutting proud and hard. It’s a contest: who will overwhelm the other first. Bucky wants to lose.

“Please!” Bucky moans. “Please fuck me.”

“Oh, I like that. Say it again for me?” Ryan’s voice has a smile Bucky can’t see with his face pressed against the mattress.

Bucky gets his chin up. “I said”—Ryan gently takes his hand and removes Bucky’s fingers. “Oh, fuck…”

“I thought that was it.” Ryan cleans his hand, and why can’t Bucky move right? He mutters an apology, but Ryan hushes him. “It’s fine, Bucky. Better than fine. God, your ass is gorgeous.”

The sound of the jelly being opened, squirted out, and closed. Then Ryan’s hand is dry on his neck, his hair, and his back, soothing and good.

“Let’s open you up some more,” Ryan says, and two slick fingers slide into Bucky’s ass. Bucky arches back like his spine is a pulled string. It’s _sudden_ , then it’s _good._ Then Ryan scissors his fingers, and it’s almost not. Bucky chases the good feeling, but something shifts: a _pressure_ that’s dense and uncomfortable. When he tries to tell Ryan, it’s just a whimper.

Ryan withdraws his fingers.

“No,” Bucky says, “bring it back.”

“So you liked the sweet spot?”

“Dunno but need you,” Bucky pants. “Inside me, please.” Bucky grabs the edge of the bed under the pillow and pulls to rub the sheets.

“Okay, we maybe work up to that.” Ryan pauses. “Shit, okay. Once more so I can be sure when we talk later, and then I’ll stop.”

“You think, too much,” Bucky pants as Ryan slides one finger in slower than before, almost a tease. No, fuck yes, two. Ryan does it differently this time. _Maybe it’s the angle, but this is nicer and whoa, fuck, there’s the hungh…_

Bucky makes a noise that isn’t a whimper this time. More of a moan.

“Is that… not a problem?”

Bucky doesn’t know. _What is that?_ but also _Is it good?_ Ryan strokes his hair, and it really could be good. _You’d think I could tell._ It’s weird, and squirmy, and still not quite comfortable.

“Give me a color.”

Bucky struggles. He tries to give an _honest_ answer, but he just doesn’t _know_. The pressure stops, and it’s all stretch and fullness and _oh god_.

“Green,” he says easily.

Ryan chuckles. “Up for three?”

“Sure,” Bucky pants. “Why not.”

Three is a _revelation_. As Ryan carefully eases the third finger inside, Bucky isn’t sure it’s more pleasure, but it’s new. _Oh, good, sex isn’t boring._ Bucky huffs a laugh.

“Good?” Ryan says.

“Fucking fantastic,” Bucky says. “What about you?”

“Fuck, yes, you have no idea.” Ryan caresses his skin again: up one arm, across his shoulders, and down the other, plus everywhere else he can reach. All while easing his fingers in & out.

It’s soothing, the way a good swim is soothing. Bucky wants more, knows what. _I refuse to be too shy._

“Nails?” Bucky asks.

Fingertips curl and nails sting. It lights Bucky’s entire skin—everywhere Ryan has touched tonight, then radiating out from there. Bucky cries out in surprise and pleasure. It keeps going: back, thighs, arms in a continuous loop. This is it, the best he’s ever felt. What he gets on his own is more intense but dull. This is bright, all-encompassing, plus a _need_ to be closer, touching more, sharing the pleasure.

“Want you,” Bucky gasps. “Please?”

“Fuck,” Ryan says. “Fuck.”

Ryan guides him onto his back, pillow under his head. He strokes along the length of Bucky’s dick. Bucky squirms, but he feels so _empty_. Impatient, Bucky grabs behind his own knees to curl his ass into view.

“You’re so incredible like this.” Ryan tears open the condom and rolls it onto himself.

“Please. I need you. You wanted me to beg, right?”

“Depends,” Ryan says because he’s an _asshole_ who needs to apply KY _faster_. “What are you begging for?” He presses his dick against Bucky’s pucker, pulsing pressure but still outside.

“Please, fuck me, please!” Bucky reaches around to pull him in, but it screws up the angle and Bucky has to pull on his knees again to get it back. “You’ve gotta fuck me, I just _need_ you, please!”

“God- _fucking_ -damn, Bucky.” Ryan pushes in slow, overwhelming and just right. “Touch yourself. Want to feel you cum.”

“Yes,” Bucky says, wrapping a hand around himself. “Oh, _Christ_ , I won’t last long like this.”

“You’d better not,” Ryan says. He leans down, trapping Bucky’s hand, breath whispering against his ear. “How’s it feel?”

Bucky moans with the sweet sensation of being emptied and filled, his hand tightening around his dick, Ryan’s stomach brushing sparks against his balls on every stroke.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Good, Ryan. _Fuck_ that’s… electricity and honey and…” Bucky can’t think of better words. “…good, so good. Ryan, I need you, so good.”

“Me too, swee—Bucky.” Ryan pants, like his brain is shattering with every stroke, too. “I _need_ you, Bucky,” he growls.

Bucky feels everything gather and scrabbles at Ryan with his other hand. Hip, back, arm: he can’t touch enough of him.

“Ryan! Ryan, it’s—oh, shit, it’s”—

“Cum for me.” Ryan thrusts harder, and a few strokes later the pleasure bursts out, up Bucky’s dick and convulsing his whole body. He’s dying, overload on his heart, but he accepts his fate. His hand and belly get warm and wet. Ryan shakes as he thrusts now, moaning low, and the look on his face as he cums is delicious.


	5. Hijinks Ensue

Ryan collapses beside Bucky with a satisfied groan.

“That,” Bucky pants, “was amazing.” He convulses a little, just a quick jump. He’s a bit surprised to still be alive, a bit embarrassed he’d thought he was dying.

“Yeah, it _really_ was.” Ryan leaves to ditch the condom but returns to lie against Bucky’s side, propped up on his elbow, grinning down at him. “So you liked the wrestling thing?”

“I’m not switching from boxing. I don’t need a hard-on in the ring.”

Ryan laughs. “The _mat_ , in wrestling.”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, flopping on top of Ryan and trying out that leg-lock he’d used earlier touching _nothing_ with his messy hand. Ryan wriggles out from under Bucky. They tangle for a bit, careful to keep the sheets halfway clean. Bucky ends up with Ryan straddling him again, not quite pinning him.

“I’m at a disadvantage,” Bucky huffs, waving his hand still coated in his cooling jizz.

“Right, you got no clue how to wrestle,” Ryan quips.

Bucky slaps his hand in the center of Ryan’s chest, sliding a little.

“Ugh! Bucky that’s… There’s better timing for that shit.” He says it ‘betta tee-ymin.’ Ryan dives for his last clean towel as his Boston accent blooms right up through the Brooklyn he’s picked up. “Ugh, I’m gonna need a shower!” Bucky savors it: ‘shyaw-a.’

“You have that here, right?” Bucky asks, batting his eyelashes and enjoying the view from the bed.

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute,” Ryan says, but he’s grinning again.

Bucky snorts, swinging his feet to the floor. “ _You’re_ cute. I’m at _least_ as handsome as you, with your pretty eyes.”

“That’s not what you said with my dick up your—hey!” Ryan scrabbles for the towel Bucky stole, but Bucky turns away as he wipes most of his jizz off his hand, stomach, and lower. Then he lets Ryan catch it.

“Christ, Bucky,” Ryan says, “you came a _lot_.” He sounds more amused and proud than disgusted now.

“I saw the condom, so you’re one to talk. Don’t they have fresh towels at the showers?”

“Hope so. Otherwise, we get to drip dry.” Ryan waggles his eyebrows.

Bucky grins. “You make that sound fun.”

Ryan pulls on gym shorts and throws Bucky a spare pair. “Let’s go find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the decade reasserts itself in the last chapter. Fair warning. It’s pretty short, though. Maybe I can get it up tonight.


	6. Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Ryan are both protective. Ryan continues to be smarter than he looks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, heads up for an ambiguous threat of queer-based violence. Sometimes my characters make things worse without my input. One bad apple can spoil the barrel. Or the YMCA showers, in this case. I swear I thought this would be more fun.

“Bucky Barnes! I thought you were too normal for night showers.”

Bucky knows some guys in the locker room from boxing. Others are maybe just staying here. There’s a tense anticipation in the way everyone moves. Bucky had heard about this, but he’d expected… well, fewer guys for starters.

“You get a room here?”

“No,” Bucky says, “I’m in Ryan’s room.”

An avalanche of congratulations slaps Bucky and Ryan on the back.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d convert him?” Ryan says with a wink at Bucky. Everyone takes this as their cue to return to stripping for the showers.

“You what?!” Bucky sputters. “You didn’t… _convert_ me.”

Ryan shrugs and strips his shorts. “Made it easier, I admit.”

“Ryan O’Neill, you are full of such bullshit,” Bucky says, pulling off his borrowed shorts.

Ryan slaps him on the ass while he's bent over. Bucky jumps at the odd thrill and gives him a _look_ , and the guys chuckle.

“We holding a coming-out party, Bucky?” someone asks.

“Oh, boys. I would, but I don’t have a dress.”

“Borrow one!” one guy shouts.

“What you’ve got on now would do fine,” Murdoch says.

“Bucky, come here, I’ll help you wash up,” says another from the communal showers.

Ryan glares three directions at once. “Back off, ladies. I waited for him, and it’s not like I share well.”

“Aw, you waited for me? That’s sweet,” Bucky says, grabbing the soap and stepping into the showers, though well away from the one who had offered to help. Ryan follows, bumping into Bucky to turn on their water.

“Yeah, I waited,” Ryan says just for him. “Not like you, but you’re my first in Brooklyn. Fuckin’ worth it.” Bucky can’t suppress his grin.

“Downright selfish, if you ask me,” Murdoch says. He’d followed them.

“We didn’t,” Ryan growls.

“You touched nobody here because, what? You wanted Bucky to think you’re _sweet_?” Murdoch leers. “But no problem. We can all have fun now.” Others have followed, but they’re rolling their eyes behind Murdoch’s back.

“Sorry, punks,” Bucky says, grinning at him. “I’m fucked out.”

“Yeah,” Murdoch says. “So who was the woman?”

“What the _fuck_ , asshole, how is that even _close_ to your business?” Ryan says, spinning toward him.

“Oh, so it was you?” The tone of the question shocks Bucky. Everyone else gets real still.

“I’m not answering that,” Ryan says dismissively.

Murdoch gets this _look_ that kicks Bucky’s brain in gear again. The look is predatory, dangerous. It’s not how Ryan looks at Bucky sometimes. Murdoch plans to _hurt_ Ryan.

“It _was_ you,” Murdoch says. “I bet you _cried_ when you took dick.”

Ryan’s in a good stance to punch Murdoch.

“It wasn’t,” Bucky says.

Ryan turns to him, jaw dropping. “Shut up, idiot,” he hisses.

“You’re saying you took it in the ass, Bucker? I like the sound of that.”

Bucky draws himself up to his full height, naked or not. “I’m saying you’ll have beef with me if you lay a hand on Ryan.”

Ryan barks a sharp laugh. “He’ll be on the floor before you get here,” he says, cracking his knuckles.

Murdoch glances from one to the other. “Bucker was the woman.”

“What difference does it make?” Ryan demands. “You think our _fucking_ position changes your odds? Bucky could kick your ass any day, and you know it, Dock-tail. We’re _both_ men, and you can fuck right off.”

While the others laugh and slap him on the back, Murdoch adds it up: YMCA champ plus the new guy who can sometimes beat him. Bucky sees the dawning equal sign before Murdoch gives them one last glare and leaves the showers.

“Night, Dock-tail!” Ryan calls after him.

“He’ll be a problem later,” Bucky says as they lather up.

Ryan shrugs. “Maybe if he gets enough friends together and catches us on our own, too. He’s not stupid.”

“You’ve thought about it.” Bucky studies Ryan’s face. “You were ready for this.”

“Something like it, maybe. We’ll just have to spend maximum time together,” Ryan says, grinning to cover any concerns. “Make it a challenge.”

“Ryan, I don’t want you to get hurt, but I have to work. I have”—

He waves a hand. “I know. You’re from here. You have family.” A shadow flicks across his face. “I won’t go down any dark alleys without you. I just… want to see you more.”

Bucky smiles. “I’d like that,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention artistic license? Historically, the YMCA showers probably had fewer people at night. It was more of a clandestine hook-up spot than what I portray. 
> 
> I started this as smut, but I see plot threads: two or three potential villains, a jealous streak, plenty of opportunity for misunderstanding… and a lot more exploring of Bucky’s hinted-at kinks. In addition, there are a few very interesting places in 1930s NYC I haven’t even touched yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning to post one chapter per day, barring major irl complications. Smut is Chapter 4, so hopefully that will go up Thursday! 
> 
> Big thank-you to Rosehip for pointing out the 1994 book Gay New York by George Chauncey, which helped me understand the snarled gender and sexuality attitudes of the 1930s. Rosehip also beta’d this, resulting in important improvements, so go to AO3 or october-rosehip on Tumblr and tell Rosehip how awesome they are. Thank you to Chauncey himself, not that he’s likely to read this little fanfic. Please note that this fic takes artistic license and any misrepresentation of the times is my responsibility. 
> 
> Fics grow like plants: Kudos are air; comments are sunshine! I’d be over the moon if you kudo, comment, or come back to enjoy it again!


End file.
